Never Forget
by chromeknickers
Summary: She heard the door click shut, and she curled herself into a ball, sobbing lightly into her drawn knees. Yes, she would never forget. Warning: this story features non-consensual acts, though they are not explicit.


**Never Forget**

She sat on the edge of the bed, facing the window, slowly pulling up her black stockings. She leaned on her right hip and slid a finger down the side-slit of her deep-green, almost black, satin cocktail dress, searching for the elusive garter belt. With a triumphant smile, she located the small clasp and hooked it onto the top of the silk-made nylons, straightening it out so that it fit properly and snuggling around her upper thigh.

Ginevra Weasley had taken extra care in her attire _and_ appearance tonight. She had light make-up on: a subtle shimmer of gold to highlight her eyes and cheeks and a thick, even layer of black mascara to cover the blonde tips of her lashes, making them look longer and fuller. She never wore lipstick, only gloss – pink and shiny – and it was juicy, like her lips. Her hair – a mélange of red and gold – was done up in loose curls, accentuating her pale, oval face and revealing her long, slender neck.

Over the years her freckles had faded so that only a few cinnamon-coloured dots dusted her nose and cheeks as well as her arms and shoulders. She was still young, only eighteen. She was short, or petite as they call it, but her body had finally filled out with subtle curves: long legs, slender waist, round hips, and a modest chest. She was not as well-endowed as her mother in the latter area, but no one had ever complained, least-of-all Ginevra. She had an athlete's body, but feminine, never having lost that last bit of baby-fat around the stomach and face. Every inch of her, like her skin, was soft yet firm.

Ginevra knew that she had to look her best tonight. She had been invited to the inauguration of Kingsley Shacklebolt as Minister of Magic, and her date was the infamous Harry Potter. She had been waiting for this moment (the date with Harry, mind you, not the Ball) since she had first begun to find boys attractive, when she felt the tingling sensation between her thighs and the dizzying euphoria in her head. She was going to give herself to him tonight, give him a night that he would never forget.

The redhead had just begun to work on her other stocking when she felt large, velvet hands touch her neck, caressing her equally soft skin. She smiled and leaned back, feeling him work his deft fingers into her shoulders, kneading out all of her stress and worries. She had given Harry the key to her flat a week ago, just a few days after she had acquired the apartment downtown. The Holyhead Harpies had recruited her almost immediately out of school, giving her the position of Chaser. They also offered to pay for her room and board on top of salary. How could she refuse? She had a flat before Ron had. It amused her immensely.

"Mmm, that's lovely," she murmured, closing her eyes as her head began to lull about.

She bit her lip and felt her dress begin to constrict across her chest as her nipples rubbed against the soft satin fabric. Just then she felt those same magic fingers slip down into the front of her dress, using index and middle fingers to tweak at her taut nubs.

Ginevra let out an excited gasp and opened her eyes in shock. "Harry?"

"Guess again."

Ginevra whipped her head around and looked up, brown eyes meeting grey.

"Draco!" she exclaimed, and the smirking blond brought his face down to hers, artfully parting her lips with his tongue to dance it along hers.

While he tasted her mouth, he snaked his fingers around her left nipple and gave it another tweak, eliciting a delightful moan from the redhead.

"Draco, no!" she managed to demand, out of breath, as she tore her lips from his and stood up, turning around to face him.

"I recall you saying 'no' to me on several occasions, Ginevra." He smirked as he shook his white-blond hair out of his eyes. "And each time you ended up on your knees, begging."

Ginevra's swollen lips twisted into a frown, and she brought her hands up to her chest, lifting up the front of her dress to straighten it out.

"That was in the past," she explained weakly, trying to give airs of defiance, but she almost never was able to say 'no' to him. "It was a one-time deal."

The handsome blond grinned in a roguish manner and casually stepped around the corner of the bed.

"Since when did several scores count as 'one', Ginevra?" He mockingly cocked a pale-blond eyebrow in the air.

Ginevra put her hands on her hips and narrowed her honey-coloured eyes. "I want you out of here, Draco!" she ordered, finally. "We talked about this six-months ago. We're through. You just have to accept it."

"Accept it?" Draco asked, his bitter tone betraying his stoical façade. "Do you honestly believe me to be some sort of pet that you can order around? Sit. Stay. Roll over?" His pewter-coloured eyes darkened. "You know you will never get rid of me."

Ginevra swallowed hard and took a shaky step back. Normally, the tall blond did not intimidate her. But something about his voice and face made her pause, made her fearful. The redhead also knew, in her heart-of-hearts, that she could never resist the tempting ex-Slytherin for long, so she had to maintain a distance.

He slowly ambled his way around the bed, giving her every opportunity to run, to scream out, but she didn't. Ginevra knew that she wanted this on some twisted level, to see how far he would go, to see how far she would let him go.

The pale blond was now just inches away from her, and she noticed that he – no – _she _had backed herself into the corner. Ginevra could smell his spicy cologne and feel the heat emanating off his body – his lean, hard body. She tried to look away, but she couldn't. Her eyes were always drawn to his mercury depths.

"Draco, please," she begged, fearful, and yet she felt that same warmth between her legs, the threatening wetness.

He reached out with a soft hand and traced the tips of his fingers down her cheek along the jaw line. He let them linger on her mouth, slowly pulling down her full bottom lip, allowing a quiet gasp to escape. His warm fingers then travelled down her neck to her collarbone, resting on the top of her dress.

"Green," he commented softly with a cold smirk on his lips as he took in the style and colour of her dress. "You used to wear green for me."

"It's your favourite colour," she whispered, eyes wide, bottom lip trembling.

He lifted his face to look at her, his stormy eyes boring into hers. His nostrils flared, and his jaw clenched. She knew that he was sizing her up, deciding what to do. His top lip curled into a snarl, and he let his hand drop to the top of her dress, grabbing hold of it to yank it back. He tore the fabric from her body and lunged forward, crushing his large frame against her smaller one.

Ginevra tried to scream out, but his lips were pressed so tightly against hers that she could not breathe. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, drawing blood, and she stumbled back in pain. She brought her fingers up to touch her swollen lip and then drew them away, noting the crimson liquid staining her pale skin. She looked up at him in hurt confusion.

"Draco?"

At then mention of his name, he growled at her and stepped over the remains of her shredded dress, reaching out to grab her by the waist. He pushed her back onto the bed then leapt on top, straddling her small, naked body with his strong forearms resting on either side of her head. He brought his face down and latched his teeth and lips onto a swollen teat.

She cried out in even more pain, sobbing into his silky blond hair. "Draco, please!" she begged. "Don't do this."

His assault on her sensitive nipples lessened and became gentler, but he did not stop. She tried to struggle, wrestle herself out from underneath him, but he had effectively pinned her to the bed with his larger, stronger frame. He then slowly moved down her body, bringing his hands up to her wrists to hold her down as she writhed against him, vulnerable and trapped. She could feel his tongue on her stomach, trailing down past her navel towards her sex.

"No," she moaned, thrashing her head from side-to-side, managing to free one hand from his tenacious grip.

Ginevra couldn't help but gasp and buck her hips upward as she felt his warm tongue invade the velvet folds of _his_ desire. His ministrations on her sensitive flesh were maddening on a multitude of levels. She found herself both hating and loving what he was doing to her. She wondered if it made her sick. He was taking her by force, and it disgusted her, but she could not help but be aroused by the way he played her body like a fine instrument.

"Draco, please stop," she said shakily as she brought a hand down to his head.

She tried to push his white-blond head away, but this only increased his vigour, and she cried out, moaning in both shame and pleasure.

He suddenly resurfaced, and she almost sighed in relief until he brought up his knee and slithered up her body, crashing his wet lips down onto hers. He flicked his tongue inside her mouth, making her taste herself, and she closed her eyes, feeling the salty tears trickle down her cheeks. He eventually tore his mouth away and smirked down at her, his hair hanging in front of his grey eyes.

"You are mine, Ginevra," he growled possessively. "You can date Potter all you like. Hell, you can marry him." He glared down at her coldly with disgust. "You can take him back after _he_ dumped you, and you can pretend that you have something special with him. You can even imagine that there never was an 'us'." His grey eyes narrowed. "But one thing you can never do, Ginevra, is be rid of me. I will always be a part of you, and you will forever be mine."

He sat up and slowly undid the buckle on his belt, slipping it out through the loop as he firmly held her down with one hand, his palm flat on her stomach. Ginevra watched as he began to unbutton his trousers and pull them down, along with his boxers. His turgid member sprang to life, standing before her, seeming to pulsate with his desire. She swallowed hard and furtively glanced about the room. She should have called out and screamed, but she couldn't.

He finally shed himself of his clothing from the waist down but did not even bother to undo his shirt. He took his large hands and brought them down to her thighs and parted them.

"Noooo, please," she begged again, openly crying. "Draco, it doesn't have to be this way."

"You are _mine_."

Ginevra felt him slip the head inside and slowly work in the shaft. She whimpered and clutched at the sheets, drawing them up into her balled fists. Draco had always been almost too large for her when they were lovers, but what had once been pleasure was now pain. She turned her head to the side and bit her bottom lip, feeling the wet tears endlessly roll down her cheeks. As he relentlessly thrust into her, she tried to remember happier times. She could tell that, at the start, he had tried to be gentle, almost loving. However, soon his want and need became one, and he started to rock into her harder and faster.

Even though Ginevra knew that this was wrong, even though she felt violated and humiliated, she could not bring herself to stop him or scream out for help. It wasn't because she was ashamed; it was because a part of her still loved him. But now he was slowly raping that love as he raped her body.

He let out a guttural cry and released himself inside her. She felt it pump in and build like a wave. She tried to picture the ocean, the waves crashing down on the shore. Again, he had tried to be gentle and pulled out slowly. As she lay prone on her back, he began to dress, and she felt his feelings of anger, betrayal, and desire slowly seep out between her thighs.

He finally finished getting dressed and stood up, walking over to the other side of the bed where the door was. He leaned down and kissed her cheek while she vacantly stared up at the ceiling.

"You will never forget me," he whispered in her ear before he stood back up and opened the door, exiting the room.

She heard the door click shut, and she curled herself into a ball, sobbing lightly into her drawn knees.

Yes, she would never forget.

**xXx**

The tall blond left the humble flat with his collar turned up and his head held low. He lightly jogged down the set of stairs, exiting the building and making his way down a narrow path towards an ill-lit alleyway.

He turned the corner and drew his wand, lighting his passageway down the littered street. He made his way towards the end before it led out onto a busy promenade and then lowered his wand to his right, directing it at a long rectangular box. He muttered a transfiguration spell, and the box slowly morphed into a long black cane with a silver-embossed snake on the top. The blond then grabbed the cane and sheathed his wand inside.

Suddenly, he doubled over, clutching at his chest in agony, feeling his body begin to tremble and shake, an unbearable pain seizing every muscle and joint. His form began to subtly alter as his once tall build became slightly shorter yet broader. His short blond hair began to grow at a rapid rate, turning an even more shocking shade of white, tumbling down past his shoulders. A set of lines creased his brow and formed around his eyes, and his chin, which was once pointed, had now become square. His neck widened as his shoulders and chest become broader and stronger.

Lucius Malfoy let out a short cough and adjusted his collar, gripping the cane tightly in his hand, wrapping his long fingers around the shaft. He smiled to himself as he lazily brought his fingers down to his waist, still feeling the warm, sticky wetness on his flesh and the taste of Ginevra Weasley on his tongue.

FIN 


End file.
